Fateful Words
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Love is something that never fades, when it's true. Even if you have to wait to say "I love you" for over ten years. KatieOliver. R


_I modified Katie's age to be two years older than she was, so that it would fit with this story better._

_For Hazel, happy (late) birthday._

_I don't own anything_

_KatieOliver_

* * *

She's always loved him, you see. There's never been a day she can remember when she hasn't been in love with Oliver Wood, fellow Gryffindor. True, she's probably twisting some of these memories now, as she looks back in the seven years she's been at Hogwarts with him, the ups and downs they've had as he has strived for Quidditch excellence.

Yet she doesn't care. She's had seven years of build up to this one moment, the chance to say the three word phrase – _"I love you"_ – so often misused in their generation's speech. Never has she said it to anyone else, because she was scared that she herself would taint the meaning of the word, leave it's meaning left in shattered pieces.

And now it's their last day of Hogwarts, their last day united together under the same roof in the same house. She can never be sure that she's going to see him every day after today, because he'll be going to Puddlemere United (Reserves, but who cares about that, when he's already got his dream?) but where is _she_ going? Nowhere. That's right; she's going into a low paid internship at the Daily Prophet. Journalism was just a career that she "fell" into, falling into a path that she's never particularly desired to go down,

She'd rather be able to fly, to feel the wind beneath her metaphorical wings as she soars around a Quidditch pitch, but she didn't try and get into one of the competitive training programmes because she thought she wasn't good enough. She still doesn't; what is _she_ in comparison to Oliver Wood at Quidditch? Her passion is nothing compared to his, especially when you remember she only fell in love with flying because she wanted to follow him.

There's a feeling of melancholy in the air as Katie walks slowly through the corridors of Hogwarts, breathing in great gulps of the air she's most likely never going to breathe in again. After all, when would she be coming back; what need would there be for her return?

As she walks past a window, her lips moving frantically as she tries to recite through the entire speech she's written to give to Oliver – I love you, blah, blah, blah, I have since first year, some more blahs – her eyes lock on the Quidditch pitch on the far side of the grounds.

One solitary figure is flying over the pitch, turning in zigzag patterns, almost invisible at the speed by which they are moving. But she knows who it is without having to try and pain over their appearance, identify the person by the few features she can make out from this distances; it's Oliver, of course. Who else would be flying on their final day, when they should be with the people they love in school?

Intrigue piqued, Katie decides rashly to walk down towards the Quidditch Pitch and just "happen" to bump into Oliver; if she's going to give him this speech, she may as well do it when there's nobody else around, right? Not that she probably will…but there's always a chance.

…

She takes a deep breath before walking through the changing rooms which were once partially hers – still _are_ partially hers, just for a few more hours. There's not long before they leave for the train, not long for her to get her act together and tell him her thoughts and feelings…but she's not sure if she will. Given that she's had them for seven years, she's not entirely optimistic that the lion within her will just spring out right now and pass on her feelings, is it?

"Katie." He spots her before she notices him, and says her name with a smile in his voice. As she looks up, she sees him flying down to the ground in front of her, swinging his leg over his broom to land with it clenched tightly in his hand. "How are you?" he asks her slightly awkwardly, there suddenly springing something up between them – almost like an invisible shield, Katie thinks randomly.

"I'm…good," she replies slowly, looking away from Oliver to look around the stadium. "Just gonna miss this place, y'know? We've been in here for years now and it's just going to be strange to not come down and practise three times a week."

He laughs very slightly and as she turns back towards him, she sees his head nodding slightly. "I know what you mean. This is the hardest part of leaving for me as well. I'll get by without school and McGonagall yelling at me for keeping you lot up to all hours of the night practising, but just playing in here…it's not going to be the same anywhere else; I've played elsewhere, but there's no atmosphere like Hogwarts." As though to have something to do, Oliver swings his broom across into both of his hands and pulls it close to his body.

As she looks at his face, she's mesmerised by just _how_ handsome he is; the smooth curve of his jaw captures her gaze for a moment as her eyes wander up to meet his. Then they meet, blue and grey together, an electric current passing between them that she can explain – but he can't. There's no emotion on his face, not really, and he looks away slowly, tearing his eyes from her face with relative ease, it seems…things that break Katie's heart.

"Yeah, I guess," she replies, her voice slightly harder now. All she wants to do is leave; she's confident that he doesn't feel the same, that she would only be embarrassed if she said anything. Why bother to ruin their friendship right now, when they're never going to see one another again? "I'm going to miss Quidditch," she says absently, her thoughts running wild as she remembers all the time they've spent out here.

She can remember every match, recall those stunning victories and then the losses that nobody wants to have stored in their brains; the feelings of euphoria – especially this year, when they finally won the cup – shall never leave her heart, because they're what have defined her school career. After all, each memory stored fondly in her heart is linked to Oliver.

"Why are you going into Journalism?" he asks her bluntly.

"I…it intrigued me," she lies plainly, looking back at him with almost defiance, as though she's daring him to prove her wrong.

He looks back at her, his gaze protruding into her soul – that's what it feels like to Katie, at least. "Really? It's not like you would have failed at Quidditch, you were always…" he blushes slightly and doesn't finish the sentence, though Katie is _desperate_ for him to.

Slowly, she shakes her head. "No, I've had to move on. After all, you can't play around forever, can you?" then she realises what she's just said and what career Oliver is going into and where she _wants_ to go, but she can't now, can she? "I didn't mean it like that, Oliver. I just meant…it's time for me to knuckle down and realise that I've got to work to get somewhere in life."

She suddenly doesn't know what else to say; she's got so much she _wants_ to say – how much she loves him, even just those three words – but she doesn't dare. She doesn't dare to tell him anything, for fear of him laughing…so all she does is do what she's always been good at.

She leaves.

"I…I guess I'll see you around sometime, Oliver, yeah?" she swallows a lump in her throat and turns away before he can say another word. The tears streaming down her face as she leaves take all her attention away from Oliver, her brain trying desperately to forget the entire speech she wrote to tell him.

She doesn't hear him calling her name.

**.**

Later that day, they leave Hogwarts for good.

She doesn't hug him as they leave, doesn't say goodbye or even look at him as they walk down towards the train.

Part of her hopes never to see him again.

…

Four years pass by quicker than Katie could imagine, four years of endless coffee making and the opportunity to proof read the journalists' reports remains the closest she's getting to journalism. All she does all day is sit at her tiny desk in the cramped corner – besides when she's ordered to make coffee – and her heart longs for her to be able to go back in time and change her mind about throwing the Quidditch brochure in the bin in favour of journalism, because where has it gotten her?

Without meaning to, she obsessively follows Oliver as he goes through his career, finding out when he saves crucial goals in the reserve team for Puddlesmere United, when he misses them – and when he's injured. Following Oliver is the only light in her tunnel now, as the dark side begins to infiltrate the Daily Prophet, taking over the main news threads.

They don't seem to care about the sports section though; they only care about killing the person who interviews the Quidditch players at the end of each game.

Out of another's misfortune, Katie finds herself leaving her little, cramped corner to be able to go sit in the area she has always dreamed of being in; the main office area, writing about the sport she loves. It's the closest she's going to get to Quidditch now, since she's too old to try out for the teams around, and she's not going to complain, is she?

Part of her feels guilty that John's getting taken away is what landed her this job, but the rest of her just revels in the freedom of getting out of the office. She's able to spin around in the open air, breathe in clean air rather than that of London, and see _green_. The beauty of the Quidditch pitch has been in her mind since before she left Hogwarts, ingrained there forever…but now she's back, she knows that the picture was flawed.

The pitches are one thousand times more beautiful than her memories.

She doesn't know what's going on with Harry or anyone else she was at school with; she's not moseying in their business for fear of the Death Eaters taking her out as being a 'Potter supporter'.

(Even though she is.)

Still, each game she goes to report on, she hopes will be a Puddlemere United game because then she can interview Oliver – but her editor doesn't seem concerned about that team, since it went down a league. She can't press going to the games for fear of having to say _why_ she's so desperate to go see this team, so she sits at her desk and compiles her reports.

The fear of revealing her pent up feelings as well as the fear of putting one foot wrong makes Katie feel as though she's in more of a prison than she was as an intern.

At least then she could _dream_ of the chance to meet Oliver; here, she's got no chance, unless the damned team move back up a league.

…

Then, finally, they do. Quidditch is a funny sport; one season ends and the next begins within a matter of weeks, so, _finally_, she's able to request to go watch the Puddlemere United v. Chudley Cannons game on the 2nd March 1998.

"Can I report on that match?" she requests her editor, who gives her a funny look. It's as though he knows why she wants to go there – then again, anyone at Hogwarts when she's been there probably knows she loves Oliver Wood – before nodding slowly.

"I want a picture of the _game_, Bell, not just of Wood's arse!" he calls after her; he _does_ know why she wants to go then.

The blush in her cheeks as she walks away is nothing compared to her blush when she thinks of seeing Oliver again, in the flesh.

**.**

Later that day, she's on her way to the game, Apparating into the press box nearest to the Puddlemere United side, one that's empty. Half the stands are empty as well, most people being too fearful to come out during the time of Voldemort's reign, but she doesn't focus on this as she watches the game through the lens of the camera, all the while hoping for an absolutely brilliant picture of Oliver.

He's better than he ever was as her Captain; there's a raw strength in him that's always been there, yet he's finally managed to do more than tap into it here. She's stunned into silence, rather than cheering, as she watches the skill he has as he moves to capture the Quaffle before it reaches the hoops; it's what she would define magic as. Magic is more than casting spells, she thinks in a brief moment of clarity; magic is about someone being so special that they can capture your attention so absolutely – something that Oliver has achieved.

She gets her act together to take a picture as he punches the Quaffle away with such power that it soars right over twelve of the other thirteen players to land on the ground just short of the Cannon's goal posts. It's this triumphant pose she captures him in; his hand in a fist, his arm extended as far as it will go as his broom swings around to prevent him falling off.

He's even more handsome than he used to be, which is saying something, since he's always rated above everyone else in her mind. His muscles ripple as he turns, his blond hair shimmering in the sunlight even more than it used to do…and then his eyes lock on her.

She's not sure if he recognises her at first; she's more than slightly different to the girl who he used to know: the one who was happy and smiley all the time. All she is now is someone who is doing all she can to not lose her job – and, preferably, her life as well. Now she's someone who takes pictures to commemorate what's happened, without being in on the actions herself, as she used to be.

But he smiles – she can see it, with the eyesight she's cherished for so long, being able to see things others have never been able to – and she knows he's well aware of what her identity is.

It's like she's continuing that moment when she looked into his eyes four years ago, unable to read what was there. But now, she's not sure what she sees. Or, rather, she knows what is there, but she's trying to suppress it, just incase she's misreading it and he _doesn't_- no, she can't even _think_ it, incase she's just wrong.

**.**

The game finishes abruptly to Katie, who's been mesmerised by Oliver ever since he looked at her, and she doesn't even know what the score is as the players fly down to the ground to shake hands. Quickly checking the scoreboard, she recognises that Puddlemere United won…and therefore Oliver won. Allowing a quick "whoop" to escape her most professional pose, she scrambles over the barrier to run onto the pitch, hoping that, since she's the only press present, they'll allow her to.

(Well, she wants to talk to Oliver, not the others, and this is the only way she can think of to make him talk to her.)

"Oliver!" she calls his name as she runs across the soggy grass, regretting the heels instantly, hoping for him to turn around as she approaches.

He does.

"Katie!" he yells her name back, a smile sliding onto his face as he sees his old teammate rushing up to him as fast as she can manage it. "Didn't I always tell you..."

"Yes, yes, don't wear heels on the grass, I remember," she grins as she rolls her eyes, somehow managing to get out a coherent sentence as those smouldering grey eyes once again drop to be level with her face. "Listen, ?" she basically says the entire sentence in less than five seconds, leaving Oliver looking flummoxed as the rest of his team turns away, seeming to almost know what to do.

Finally, for the first time in four years, she's alone with him.

"Uh…sure?" he's not sure _exactly_ what she asked, but he's got an idea from the notebook and pen.

"How did you find the game?" she asks, trying to keep professional for a few minutes before she tries to find the courage to tell him how she feels. Again, she finds the confident front slipping, and wonders if she's actually going to do it this meeting, or if she'll wait until his retirement interview to confess.

"The best ever," he sounds sincere as he speaks, their eyes still locked together as she shakes her Muggle pen (so much more convenient than ink and a quill when out interviewing) to write without looking at the paper.

"And why is that, if you don't mind me asking?" she continues as professionally as she can manage, yet she feels the blush sliding onto her face. How she could even _think_ that she would be able to interview him is beyond her, because she thinks she's reading too far into his eyes and seeing emotions that aren't really there.

(She's always liked to fantasise, hasn't she?)

"Because the girl I've loved for over a decade has finally turned up to see me play the game we both love." His response stuns her into dropping her notepad and pen onto the ground with a _thump_, one that barely registers in her ears.

All she can hear is Oliver's words in her head, repeating themselves over and over again. _"Because the girl I've loved for over a decade has finally turned up to see me play…the girl I've loved for over a decade…the girl I've loved_…" she can't think of anything but these words, can't comprehend what she's hearing because it doesn't seem to make _sense_ to her.

He _can't_ have loved her for that long. He just can't have. She's gone through these years of torment, wondering whether or not to tell him that she loves him, and he's loved her all the time.

There's only one thing for it.

"You are," she begins, reaching out and slapping him in the chest, "the biggest idiot I have ever known! Why didn't you _say_ anything?" she cries out, taking a step closer to the burly man before her. He's more muscular than he was before – and he's never been skinny – and it amazes her that someone only 22 could be _this_ big.

All he does is cock an eyebrow at her, as though she's almost stupid. "And why didn't_ you_ say anything?" he retorts, the same Oliver humour as ever.

She blushes and shakes her head, her eyes locked on his. "I…I thought that I would wait to see if you seemed as though you were interested before I started pouring my heart out in the middle of the Quidditch pitch or wherever," she replies slowly. "After all, you were Mr. Popular and I was…just me."

She shrugs slightly, because she's not sure what else she can say, and that's when he moves. Within less than a second, she's wrapped in his arms, clenched close to his body so tightly that she can't remember what her body is like itself. It's more than anything else she's imagined; he's stronger than she dreamed of, and he's got a heartbeat that she can hear like a ticking clock beneath her ear.

"Don't you _dare_ say that you were nothing," he mutters in her ear, sounding almost angry at her. "You were everything. You _are_ everything – to me, and that's all you need. I've been waiting for you for so long now; I can't imagine my life without you."

She lifts her head from his chest as he shifts her around slightly so she's further back from his chest, yet still touching him. A smile graces her lips and she stands on her tiptoes to reach as high as she can to be able to press her lips to his softly, the silver lining to every thought she's ever had about Oliver Wood.

Every imagination of this moment is blown out of the water; this is one million times better than all of that, being here, with him right now.

"I love you," she whispers as she lets go, finally able to say those three words that she's been dying to say for years.

"I love you too."

…

Somewhere, in the middle of their happiness, they've forgotten that they're in the middle of a war and that Katie needs to be more than careful to avoid persecution by the Death Eaters at the Daily Prophet.

One day, she makes a mistake.

She says _his_ name.

Voldemort.

There's a scurry of movement as the Death Eater in the office moves through to incapacitate her and she has absolutely no idea what else, so she does something she's always been good at.

She runs.

Not literally; she merely gathers her bag and her wand and Disapparates before they can come through…but before she's gone, there's a crack of light and she knows she'd be dead if she had still been there.

Evidently, her job was as precarious as her predecessor.

Staggering as she lands in Ottery St Catchpole, she runs as fast as she can – literally, this time – towards the Burrow, hoping desperately that Molly will be in so she can be safe from whatever comes after her. Since they're never going to let her say _Voldemort_, run and live, are they?

"HELP ME!" she shrieks as she runs into the yard at the Burrow, pounding on the door, hoping for someone to come help. Too late, she realises she should have gone to Oliver, her boyfriend of almost three weeks now, but then she doesn't want to bring him into _her_ mess, does she?

The door opens and she's ushered in, quickly, no questions asked, just shown where to hide until they can get her out of there.

**.**

Hours and hours pass, in which time she does nothing other than sit, because she's just not sure what to do. Her life was perfect, until she said Voldemort. Now she's ruined it.

She's forgotten that she was supposed to meet Oliver tonight. She's forgotten that he's standing under the streetlight nearest the Daily Prophet building, waiting for a girl who will never come out.

And, for the first time, Katie's regretting saying she loves Oliver, because all she's done is drag him into this mess.

* * *

_I don't even know what this is._

_Don't favourite without reviewing, thanks._

_Vicky xx_


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